He Knows
by PhantomSpannah
Summary: ASHES TO ASHES: Gene, Alex and the gang track down a serial murderer. The tension mounts and certain truths are revealed: AxG M for violence, and some adult content.
1. The Set Up

**This will be a sort-of-one-shot: Alex and Gene get caught up in the climax of a murder investigation.**

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"Get ya hands up in the air now unless you wanna see this tom swinging from the rafters!"

The balaclava-clad speaker swung his gun round to point in turn at DCI Hunt, DI Drake, DS Carling, and DC Skelton, as they edged back against the wall, exchanging worried glances.

"Right, no sudden moves, team," Gene whispered sotto voce to Alex, "We may be dealin' with a psycho." She conceded with barely a nod of the head, and passed the message along.

"Guns on the floor." The next order came.

One by one, the four placed their weapons in front of them, and at another gesture, kicked them away. Glancing at each other, they felt the tension in the room raised up another notch.

They had spent the last week investigating a series of particularly gruesome murders; the corpses of three women had been found hanging from belts in various warehouses across London. They had been pretty hard to identify, as the killer had taken great pains to mutilate his victims; faces and breasts had been slashed and ripped so horribly that the victims were practically unrecognisable. Chris had been the one to pick up on the clues; a boot-print here; a cuff-link there. They had eventually tracked down the murderer to a small out-house at the dock-yard, only to find that he had with him yet another prospective victim.

"What do we do now?" Alex breathed in Gene's direction.

"I dunno yet – need more time!" She could tell that Hunt was agitated; indeed he had good reason to be – none of them had a plan, and if they didn't act soon, they would all soon be witness to at least one more murder.

"Why did you do it? All those women?" Alex couldn't help herself; her undaunted curiosity and inquisitive mind needed some answers. "Was it because of your father? We've done some pretty thorough background checks, and I know about your dad. Domestic abuse is always terrible, but that doesn't give you a reason to follow in his footsteps, does it?"

She stepped forward slightly, unable to override the urge to reason with the felon.

"Are you angry at your mother for being weak? Is it because you feel you need to live up to your father? Is this what happens when someone gets too close for comfort? There is help, you know. If you let her go, we can get you some help, someone to talk to. I can-"

But whatever it was that Alex Drake had been about to suggest, she was cut-short when a warning shot ricocheted off the wall only feet from her. Backing against the wall with a cry, she grabbed Hunt's wrist, but when he looked round at her with narrowed eyes, she quickly let him go.

"Right now, you lot - here's your choice – I suggest you listen. I want the bird for this slag." The gunman interrupted her thoughts abruptly.

"You what?" Ray voiced everyone's feelings.

"Simple," the man growled. "I get the bird," he gestured at Alex, "You get the prossie." He prodded the cowering girl in the ribs with the pistol. "You then have four hours to get the ransom money to me, or she gets it in the neck."

"YOU WHAT?" Gene echoed Ray's words and stepped forward menacingly, ignoring the barrel of the gun.

"_Gene_!" Alex grabbed his arm and pulled him down to the ground, just as a stray bullet ricocheted overhead, hitting the spot where Hunt's head had been mere moments ago. Showered in plaster and dust, they spluttered and rose to their feet again, as the gunman gestured once more with his weapon.

"Right, last chance. Make your choice." There was no detectable weakness in his stance or voice.

"Ok, Ok." Alex stepped forward, "We'll make the swap."

"Get back here you dozy bitch, what the hell do you think ya playin' at?" Gene grabbed her roughly by the elbow.

Meeting his stare and lowering her voice, she reminded him, "We need more time – I can buy us that."

He stared straight back at her, weighing up the options. On one hand, they _did _need time and he couldn't risk another potential murder; on the other, he couldn't risk losing a colleague on the job – Drake wasn't exactly known for being cool-headed. There was another reason too, but he didn't particularly want to think too much on that right now.

"Alright, Drake," he relaxed his grip on her arm, "but no heroics."

With a brief half-smile in his direction, Alex turned around to face her future captor. Leering at her from under his mask, he shoved his trembling hostage away and quick as a whip, fastened his vice-like fingers around her forearm. In one movement, he had her pressed up against his sweaty, dirty shirt; his arm wrapped tightly around her; stale breath against her neck.

The frightened ex-hostage fell into Chris' arms, and with an urgent "Go!" from Hunt, both hurried from the building to raise the alarm and radio for back-up.

"I must say, I do prefer this model," the gunman snarled lecherously into Alex's ear, all the time keeping his eyes on Gene, as he raised the hand holding the gun to her temple. Still watching Gene like a hawk, he trailed the tip of the pistol lasciviously down her jaw, and traced the outline of one breast. "Delicious," he whispered, and Alex shivered visibly.

Gene Hunt curled his fingers into a fist so tight, that he heard the bones creak.

"I wonder if you like this," the convict continued his dubious explorations as he trailed the gun barrel down Alex's waist, her stomach, her thigh, and further...

Not being able to stand the abuse any longer, Alex snapped. The fiery DI suddenly twisted one hand free, and used it to punch her hostage-taker with all the force and anger she could muster. The sound of the contact echoed forebodingly in the empty room. Everything else was silent.

When he had recovered from the shock, her captor turned his head slowly back around to look at her, his eyes burning. His face was bright red where her fist had made contact, and his mouth slid into an ugly sneer.

"You shouldn't 'av done that, _bitch_," his voice was like steel cutting through the air, like a sword about to impact.

Pulling her roughly to him, he thrust the gun back against her temple, and in one swift movement he pounced, forcing his mouth upon hers, and thrusting his lithe tongue down her throat. Alex tried in vain to push him off her, but he was too strong. His grip on her arms; the smell of stale beer and sweat; his rough, dank mouth on hers – it was all too much for her.

Apparently, it was all too much for DCI Gene Hunt too, and with one roar of anger, he had hurled himself at the pair.

There was a gunshot.

Someone cried out in pain.

The blood began to flow.

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**To Be Continued...**

**R & R – What do you think?**


	2. Complications

**Back by popular request – chapter 2! (Please note that Chap 1 has been altered as well – not majorly, just a few nitpicks that got sorted)**

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Alex Drake heard the shot, and, frozen with shock, closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to set in. When it didn't come, she realised that she had not been the target. Heart racing, she whipped her head around to see –

"RAY!"

The Detective Sergeant lay half-propped against the wall, head dropped down to his chest, eyes shut tight. His shirt seemed to blush scarlet.

"Raymondo!" Hunt was by his side in an instant, hands pressed tight to the hole in the torn and bloody shirt. "Wake up, Carling! No-one is gonna cop it on my shift!" He sounded angry, but Alex knew that it was just how he reacted to an attack like this. Hunt's usually ruddy face was almost as pale as Ray's rapidly-bloodless countenance.

"Get up."

She had almost forgotten about the balaclava-clad villain in all the action. Hunt ignored the order, and proceeded to rip off the sleeves of his shirt; wrapping them under and around Ray's arm and chest in a make-shift bandage.

"I said – GET UP!" The sneering tone got suddenly louder, as her captor began to lose his patience.

Hunt got up slowly from the floor, keeping both eyes fixed on the man with the pistol.

"Right, nobody moves unless I SAY SO! Got it?" The villain waved his gun to one side, indicating that Hunt should come and join them.

Gene Hunt walked slowly towards the pair, hands held high above his head, a grim look of determination on his face. Alex found herself barely capable of keeping her balance, let alone having the strength to speak coherently. She contented herself with merely staring at Gene, and casting worried glances at the prone form of Ray Carling.

"Now get over here and stand next to this bitch." Alex saw that the gunman had produced a length of coarse rope from his pocket, and was swinging it in one hand. Presumably, it had would have been used to subdue his next victim, though Alex thought it best not to dwell on that particular thought at moment.

"You," the gun was pointed at Gene, "tie her hands together." He tossed Hunt the rope, then swung his gun round to cover Alex, "You make any sudden moves, and she gets it."

Proffering her hands up to him, Alex met Gene's eyes and they exchanged a look.

As gently as was possible, Hunt proceeded to bind her wrists together, being careful not to pull the knot too tight, or catch her skin. Alex allowed herself to relax slightly at the sensation of his fingers on hers; he felt somehow, safe – a comforting touch in what was otherwise a pretty bleak situation. Knowing only that she needed some reassurance right now, she grabbed Gene's hand as he wound the rope around hers. He didn't look up at her, lest the masked man see the exchange, but he did squeeze her hand back – hard.

Buoyed by this brief contact, Alex felt her spirits rise a little, taking confidence from the fact that whatever happened, they were in it together. Snapping out of her reverie, she stuck her chin out a little, and stood straight, turning to face their captor.

"Right, now – face each other." He belted out the instructions and stepped forwards, another loop of rope in his hands.

Before she knew it, Alex was roped up to the Guv; his bound wrists looped under and around her own; their arms forming a complex figure of eight. Their captor had checked and double checked the knots; there was no way out for either of them for the moment.

"That ought to do for the moment," the gunman assessed his handy-work; Gene and Alex were most definitely stuck. "But just in case you decide to run for it..." He had picked up a heavy metal rod that had been lying in a pile of building rubble in one corner. Wielding it like a maniac golfer, the man approached Gene slowly and deliberately. As the pair tensed themselves ready to duck the blow, their captor faked a swing of the club and took them both by surprise.

_Swooosh-KERTHUNKCH!_

Their captor had taken careful aim, and landed a vicious blow on Alex's ankle. The sickening crunch of bone could be clearly heard in the silence.

"AAARRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHH!" Alex yelled with the agony of the impact, momentarily blinded by the pain. She fell forwards, and clutched desperately at the remnants of Gene's shirt to stop herself from falling. She knew without a doubt that the ankle was broken, if not completely shattered. She had to bite her tongue to stop her from screaming; the pain was unbelievable. Fisting the shirt, she pulled Hunt closer as a means of support, barely noticing that he had already brought his looped hands up and over her head, holding her tightly to his heaving chest.

Hunt seemed torn between launching a return attack and beating the vagrant to within an inch of his life, and staying put to steady the crippled Alex. He seemed to decide that the latter would be the wiser choice, and stayed put.

But as Alex collapsed against him, sobbing agonised tears into his already damp and bloodied shirt, Hunt couldn't help himself.

"You BASTARD! You _cowardly_, _spineless_, _wimpish_¸ _jessie-lovin'_, _perverted_, _twisted_, _sick_ BASTARD!" He enunciated each word deliberately, spitting it out with the contempt and disgust it deserved. "You SICK CREEP. Waltzing around _my_ city, murdering girls just cos' ya dad was a _twisted_ and thoroughly _depraved_ individual. Is it really the best you can do? Cripplin' strong women cos' you ain't got big enough balls to admit that your dad was a-"

The gunman had clearly had enough, and, provoked by Hunt's verbal onslaught, raised the metal rod again, a gurgling growl deep in his chest. But Hunt was ready for it; he knew what he had been doing when he goaded the felon. Before the man could complete his downwards chop, Hunt had made his move.

Quick as whip, DCI Hunt's leg shot out, landing squarely in his opponent's crotch. With a yelp of pain, the masked man folded, melting onto the floor in a writhing heap.

Knowing they had only seconds, Gene quickly turned to Alex.

Meeting her red-rimmed eyes, he took only a moment to catch his breath, before uttering the syllable:

"RUN!"

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**Still interested? (This is turning out to be quite a long one-shot!)**

**R & R**


	3. A Tricky Situation

**Here we go again – and it's getting interesting...**

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Gene Hunt had barely finished the word before he got moving, desperate to get the both of them out of danger before their captor came to his senses. One thing stopped his progress, however.

"MMMPPPGHH – _aggghhhhhhh_!" Alex Drake's broken cry stopped him in his track. Whirling around, he realised that he had all but forgotten her shattered ankle – she was in no fit state to run. Looking down at her, he felt guilt flood over him.

"Another officer down – I really am doin' a _shit _job of lookin' out for my team today" he muttered to himself.

"No, Gene, you're not." Alex's reply was so quiet that it could have been mistaken for a sigh.

"Look 'oo's talkin'," he looked down at her pale face, "You're in no condition to tell me I'm doin' a good job. You're temporarily crippled; roped up to me; and yer face is as white as polar bear's arse."

"Well – I suppose things could be better," she managed a half-smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Cheers, Bolly," he returned the half-smile.

"_Urrrrrrgggghhh_," They were interrupted by another loud groan from the writhing gunman on the floor.

"Right, Drake, I reckon that's our cue t' get our stamped arses out of 'ere – pronto!" Raising both eyebrows at her, Hunt made to move again.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Guv?" She indicated her useless ankle with a pained look.

"Got it covered, Bolls." Flashing a quick grin and a hasty wink, he stooped down to the floor, bringing her with him. "Right – legs up!" He gingerly helped her slip her injured leg into the sling created by his bound wrists, then motioned for her to do the same with her other leg.

"'Uston, we have bleedin' lift off!" With a strained groan of effort, he rose back to his feet, lifting her with him in a carrying position. Looking quickly down at their attacker, he spat out one last jibe, "Thanks for everythin' – now we better be off. See ya in the nick later on, ya sick _bastard_!"

And, having gotten the last word in as usual, he made for the stairs at a staggered run - DI Drake cradled in his arms.

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"Look – you're gonna have to put me down!" Alex prodded Gene lightly in the chest.

"Nope – still – three floors – to – go," his breath was laboured and Alex could feel his heart racing.

"Well I can't have you collapsing from heart failure, can I?" she begged him, "Stop being so chivalrous and put me down – I'll have to limp." When he didn't answer, she changed tack, looking for a compromise. "At least have a rest for a few minutes?" She tugged at his shirt for emphasis.

"Now you're – talkin' – sense!" Coming to a halt, Gene looked back down the corridor for signs of the gunman. Seeing none, he looked hastily around for a hiding place. Spotting a door, he headed for it a laboured jog. "No sense in – gettin' – caught – now – eh, Bolls?" Swinging open the door, he ducked inside, careful not catch Alex's ankle on the frame.

The only, slight problem with carrying his DI was that Gene Hunt had no hands free to hold the door. He only realised his mistake, when looking around for a light switch in the tiny room, he heard the unmistakeable sound of a door clicking shut behind him, locking them in.

Sinking onto the floor of the darkened room, Hunt let out a sigh and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Alex, who was now sitting in his lap, collapsed against his sweaty chest; weak from the pain, she needed the rest as much as he did. They sat in silence for a few minutes; Alex finding a strange comfort in the steady rise and fall of Gene's chest, and the 'thump-de-thump' of the heart beneath.

When she was sure that there were no noises from outside, and that Hunt's breathing had just about returned to its normal rate, Alex broke the silence.

"Where are we, Gene?" she kept her voice low – just in case.

"Locked in a tiny room with no light switch on the fourth floor," she felt the low rumble of his voice against her head, as well as hearing it. "Oh, and don't worry 'bout it, Drake, all that runnin' was probably good for me 'ealth." Even in her web of pain, she couldn't mistake the sarcasm.

"Thanks, Gene," her tone was sincere and apologetic, "I dunno what I'd have done if-"

"Apology accepted," he returned, his voice gruff, "Jus' don't go makin' an 'abit of it – ok?"

"Well it's not my personal fantasy – being stuck in what is essentially a broom-closet with my overbearing boss – I mean," she grinned in the dark, "how clichéd can you get?"

"Well this 'klee-shay' evidently doesn't know what it's missin'." She felt him puff up his chest at the insult.

Laughing softly, she playfully punched him in the arm; too exhausted to put up a fight.

"Oofff – what the bloody 'ell was that for?" She had forgotten that their arms were still linked; when she had touched his arm, she had inadvertently caused her companion to elbow himself in the jaw.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, Gene," she tried to keep her voice straight, but couldn't quite stifle the giggle.

"You don't 'alf pack a punch when you want to, Bolly," he spoke in an injured tone that sobered her, a little.

"I'm sorry," Alex repeated, "What else do you want me to do?" She instantly regretted the question. Although she couldn't see him, she could practically hear him thinking the offer through.

"Well, since you're offerin'," he delayed the answer, wanting to tease her, "I'm quite a fan of the traditional method."

"And that would be...?" She asked with trepidation, feeling that the silence had become a little too oppressing. Her senses seemed to be on overdrive: she was suddenly all too aware of her head against his chest; his hands next to hers; that musky male aroma – everything seemed to centre around Gene Hunt.

"You never 'eard the sayin' 'kiss it better'?" She felt, rather than heard, the catch in his breath; sensed his heart up its pace by a notch; the slight sheen of sweat on his palms. None of it somehow seemed real: the Guv was usually all talk, no action – he copped a feel when he could, and eyed up other women constantly, but never had she known him to react like this.

She opened her mouth to reply, but no witty retort would come. She gulped – surely she didn't want to-

"Not like we got many other options, is it?" He interrupted her thoughts, "And Lord only knows 'ow long it's gonna take Chris 'n' the others t' get 'ere."

She rose her head up off his chest to face him.

"What do you mean by 'other options', _Gene_?" She was affronted by his casual remark and anger seemed to bubble to the surface. "You think I've got no other option but to snog you? Just because we're temporarily trapped in here, it does not mean we have to give up all sense of logic, reason and protocol. Yes, thanks for carrying me, and I'm sorry for accidentally knocking your jaw, but maybe I should have punched you a bit harder, because Lord knows you need some bloody _sense_ knocked into you! I wouldn't kiss you if the future of this planet depended upon it!"

"Oh really, Drake?" The smugness of his tone riled her up even more.

"Bloody right!"

"So what are we doin' now?" His voice was low, and she felt a delicious shiver pass through her.

She hadn't realised that during her tirade, she had unconsciously shuffled ever closer to him. So close, that they were now centimetres away from each other. She could feel his breath on her cheek; feel the heat from his skin.

"I, uh, don't really..." She trailed off, and instinctively leaned in nearer, her heart beating a tattoo on her ribcage and her pulse racing.

The room felt charged with electricity that had been silently building in the background; it was the most erotic thing Alex Drake had ever felt. She rested her forehead against his, the heat seemingly melding their skin together. Her hair fell around them, tickling her cheek, and she could feel his eye-lashes fluttering against hers, as he closed his eyes. His nose nudged against hers gently, and she could feel his breath against her lips. Although she could see nothing, every other sense seemed heightened; the heat of his body; the taste of something electric in the air; his heavy breathing like thunder in the silent room; the indescribable scent that was just 'him'.

Her breath hitched a little as she felt him move again, shifting his body beneath her; twisting one hand to touch hers, running his fingers slowly along each of hers, and over her palm. Her body seemed to act of its own accord; returning the grip of his fingers, and nudging his nose with hers, searching for his lips. She was so close, so close to feeling his lips on hers, she could almost taste him.

"Alex?" he spoke so softly that she almost didn't catch it, using her given name for what seemed to be the first time.

She leaned in a little closer.

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**Good?**

**(I forgot to mention that I am the Queen of Evil Cliffhangers)**

**R & R**


	4. Heating Up

**Sorry for the cliff-hanger – but enjoy the next instalment – probably not what you were expecting...**

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It was the squeeze on her hand that made Alex stop dead in her tracks. She could feel his lips practically against hers, and, though the effort nearly killed her, she pulled away a little.

"Gene," she panted, apparently not in full control of all her faculties, "What _are_ we doing?"

"You tell me, Bolly," she could hear the barely restrained frustration in his voice, yet, there was also a fondness there. She knew that if she could see him, he would have raised his eyebrows and be watching her closely.

"I don't really know to be _quite_ honest, Gene. I mean – it's me and – it's you!" She could virtually feel his eyes burning into her, even in the pitch-black of the tiny room.

She decided that there was no other option but to continue her explanation.

"Well... there's work to think about... not to mention the others!" Sensing that this still wasn't enough, she searched around in her mind for another idea, finally settling on a more recent memory. "Ray! I mean – have we even talked about Ray? Was he unconscious? Did you manage to stop the bleeding? Where exactly was entry wound? Was it below or above the diaphragm... or the kidneys? Might he have hit a lung? Because you know how fatal a wound like that can be, and I mean-"

She could have continued pontificating for another ten minutes, if something hadn't stopped her.

And that something happened to be DCI Gene Hunt's lips, pressed to hers, in a gentle kiss.

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Alex had no idea what had just occurred; one moment she had been trying to talk some sense into her colleague, and the next... Well, the next thing she knew was _the_ most mind-blowing kiss she had ever encountered.

At first, she was so shocked by the contact that she didn't move; time seemed to stop still around them, as though holding its breath. It was just his lips against hers; soft, warm skin on skin. She savoured the sensation, allowing the long-anticipated moment to be burnt into her memory.

Gene Hunt, however, seemed to have no scruples on stepping the action up a notch. When Alex felt him begin to move against her, she almost melted into his arms. At first, he only moved a little, brushing his lips slightly against hers, though each movement to Alex seemed to spark a shiver of electricity to run down her spine. Then, as he grew a little bolder, she felt him open his mouth slightly against hers; gently nudging her lips open as he did so. Now she could feel his hot breath in her mouth; seeming almost to burn her throat.

Taking advantage of her open mouth and lack of movement, Gene closed his mouth slightly, and took her bottom lip gently between his teeth, tugging at it slightly.

This was Alex's undoing: she felt the groan rise in her throat, and before she could stop it, felt it escape into his mouth. Unconsciously, she fisted his shirt once more, pulling herself around further into his lap, flush with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He brought his hands up to her neck, holding her in place while he plundered her mouth. This simultaneously dragged her hands up, and she slipped them under his open shirt a little, pulling him closer still.

Alex was almost completely absorbed by his kiss, a kiss that was almost the complete opposite of his crude and abrasive outer shell. She was so absorbed that she almost forgot herself. But when she felt the low growl from his chest, she seemed to snap back to consciousness.

Once more pushing herself, grudgingly, away from Gene Hunt and his searching lips, she shook herself a little, trying to clear her head.

"What was that?"

"_Shhh_!" His urgent response galvanised her.

"What?" She asked again, her tone now lowered to barely a whisper.

"There was someone outside – I 'ad to shut you up unless you wanted the both of us _dead_!" His voice too was hushed.

"Well why didn't you say so then?" She sounded somewhat affronted.

"'Cos you were too busy shooting ya gob off to pay any attention! I assumed that you'd prefer a snog to a bullet?" Even at a whisper, he still sounded a little annoyed that she wasn't thankful for his quick thinking.

"Well there really was no need to-"

He cut her off again.

"You didn't put up much of a fight, did ya though, Bolls?"

She went to open her mouth, but nothing came out. Why did he have to be so irritatingly right all of the time? She would have loved to have put her reaction down to shock, but she knew that she wouldn't be telling the whole truth if she did.

"I reckon," he said slowly, but smugly, "I reckon, you might 'ave a bit of a... _thing_... for me, Drake."

"Well you are horribly mistaken then, aren't you, Gene?"

"Well if you 'ate me as much as you make out," he continued, still irritatingly complacent, "why is it that you've still got one 'and tangled in my 'air, one under my shirt, and you're tits are pressed so tightly to my chest, that they're practically _my_ tits?"

Still, she stuttered for words.

"Face it, Drake. You want me." He sounded so arrogant and sexy at the same time, that she nearly collapsed right there.

Having given up on the power of speech momentarily, Alex decided her best bet was to concentrate on other parts of her body for mobility. As she tried to move her hands from the offending areas that Gene had so tactfully pointed out, she accidentally nudged his wrists down simultaneously.

The next thing she knew, Gene Hunt's hands were firmly on her breasts. She stopped moving altogether, and held her breath. In the silence, she heard a quiet "oh" from Gene, and felt rather than saw his thumbs run gently around the edge of each breast. She had to draw a deep shuddering breath to prevent the moan from rising up her throat.

"Like that, do ya, Bolls?" His voice was still hushed, but still it seemed to thunder in her ears, "I knew-"

But whatever it was that Gene Hunt knew, he never explained. Because Alex Drake had just crushed her mouth to his, rendering him speechless.

He was the perfect mix of hot and sweet; passionate and yet so gentle. His tongue met with hers in a fierce duel, before he bit down gently on hers, coaxing another low moan from Alex. She twisted her head to get a better angle, now meeting him move for move. When she tugged at the hair on the back of his neck, she won an appreciative growl from his lips, and he pressed his mouth more tightly to hers. His hands and fingers explored the soft dips and curves of her breasts, rubbing gently at one nipple, squeezing the other slightly.

As she moaned, he pulled away just long enough to ask the muttered question.

"What was _that_ for?"

"To shut you up – someone outside – " She mustered enough breath and energy for these few words, before once more silencing him with a furious kiss.

Teeth clashed, and she nipped at his bottom lip, he growled again and squeezed both breasts hard. She allowed her hand to travel further down his chest, running it over the softer skin, and the almost hairless torso. Twisting around even further in his lap, she felt the stirrings of arousal beneath and moaned into his mouth. Twisting her other hand up and into his hair, she pulled him down further, trying to get their mouths as close as was humanly possible.

Eventually, they had to come up for air; resting against each others' forehead, they tried to catch their breath. It was only in the silence that Gene noticed, with surprise, that something was amiss.

"Drake," he panted into her ear, "You kissed me to shut me up?"

"Yeah?" she panted back, "Problem?

"One problem, Bolls," she felt him grin against her mouth, "There was no-one out there - was there?"

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**Oooh-hooo!**

**Oh I'm so evil!**

**R & R!**


	5. Pain and Pleasure

**It strikes me as odd that I have so many of your imaginations and hearts in my hands – let's hope I can do them justice!**

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Alex gulped; what was she supposed to do now? She was sitting - no, lounging – comfortably in DCI Hunt's lap, nose to nose with him, and recovering from a most sensational kiss. She tried for an explanation.

"Well... you see... I mean, well..."

"Tongue-tied, Bolly?" The husky tones were followed by a surprise move from Gene; quickly leaning forward, he once more took her bottom lip gently between his teeth.

"'Ook!" Alex had to tear her mouth away from his, and began again, "Look! What just happened – what you – we –did -"

"I think," he emphasised each phrase by nudging her nose with his a little, "that you enjoyed it so much..." _nudge _"that you came back..." _nudge _"for some more..."

Alex was beginning to feel a bit like a mouse under the stare of a cobra; she could almost feel herself swaying beneath him, hypnotised by his charm. Shaking herself, she tried to focus on her point once more.

"Gene..."

But it was useless. She felt her eyes close lazily, content just to absorb his scent and his heat; leaning into him once more, wanting – no, _needing_ – his caress.

When he lowered his head to her neck, she felt a tingling jolt of sensation spread through her nerves. The combination of both soft and bristly hair against her sensitive skin seemed to set her senses aflame. When he added his lips to the proceedings, she almost yelped in pleasure. She remembered many drunken nights at a bar and many men, but she couldn't ever remember feeling this amount of bliss from such a simple act. It was as if she had a secret 'button', and Gene Hunt was the only one who knew how to switch it on.

As a particularly acute wave of pleasure flooded her senses, she shifted her position, trying to wrap one leg around him and ease that growing aching sensation.

It all appeared to be going smoothly, until –

"_AAGGHHMMPPPPHHHHHHH_!"

Gene sat bolt upright, bashing his head against the wall in the process.

"What the bloody 'ell's goin' on, Drake?" He rubbed his sore head, and groped around in the dark for his companion.

"My...ankle..." Alex was simultaneously biting her lip and trying to swallow down further cries of pain.

"Oh shit, I'd forgotten!" She sensed the apologetic tone in his voice, but was suddenly not in any mood to care.

"Well _bully_ for you, _Gene_!" She knew it wasn't his fault, but still she found herself taking the brunt of her anger out on him.

"_Look!_ I am _trying _to 'elp, so will you please shut up and _listen_!" Gene Hunt was not one to take insults lightly.

Alex had just opened her mouth to reply, when suddenly she heard a '_click_' and found herself blinded by a bright light.

After a few moments, her eyes became adjusted to the flickering light of the gas-lighter, and for the first time, she got a good look at her surroundings. The room was indeed tiny; barely four by five foot. It was totally empty, apart from its two unwilling occupants. This brought her around to Hunt himself.

He was slumped against one wall holding the glowing lighter aloft with one hand, and peering intently at her. She noted the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, and the tousled appearance of his hair. Swallowing hard, she noticed his shirt; the top few buttons had been ripped off and she could see a great deal of the pale vest beneath. His tie hung loosely to one side, and as she traced it with her eyes, they inevitably fixed on the slight, but noticeably tented trousers.

"Eyes up, Bolly," gulping, she hastily flickered her gaze back up to his face, blushing furiously. Gene didn't seem at all embarrassed; winking at her, he muttered "later" and half-grinned at her, before becoming serious again.

"Right then, Drake – where's this ankle of yours?"

Remembering the source of the pain, Alex glanced down at her right ankle, which she was gripping tightly with both hands.

"Ah, ok – you gonna let me take a peek?" Moving forward, he began to prise her hands off the swollen joint. Realising that he needed both hands free, he motioned for her to take the lighter, and then set to work examining the injury. He could feel that her ankle was hot and swollen, and by the cries of pain she made, could tell that it was probably broken.

"Right, I'm no doctor, but I would say you need some ice and a splint." He glanced at her for confirmation. When she nodded, he continued. "But since we 'ave neither, we're gonna 'ave to make do – but you'll 'ave to trust me on this one, Bolls." So saying, he leant down the puffed up joint and extended his tongue, much to Alex's amusement and shock.

"What precisely are you doing, Gene? Going to lick me better are you?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Well since you ask – no!" He shot her an exasperated look. "Right – you're ankle needs somethin' cool to relieve the swellin', and since we 'aven't got any ice or water 'andy, you're gonna 'ave to make do with my spit."

"Ever the gentleman, Gene," she sighed drolly, "Oh, just get on with it then."

He shot her a dirty look, and once more bent down to her ankle. Alex watched curiously, as he ran his tongue across the hot skin, and sighed a little as she felt some of the heat evaporate. "Oh god, that's good."

Mission accomplished, Hunt rose back into a sitting position and winked at her suggestively, "I 'aven't even started yet, Bolly."

She raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the innuendo, and he continued.

"Right – all we need now is a suitable material." He scanned the room, and settled on Alex, a half-grin plastered across his face.

"Your shirt, Drake."

"What?" she hoped that he was joking, "Why don't we use yours?"

"Too thick – bandage needs t' be breathable – and yours," he reached forward and plucked at the flimsy material, "Is perfect."

"Fine." Alex pulled a face, realising that, on this occasion, he might just be right. And after all, it was her he was trying to help – so why not cooperate? With one last, withering glance at Hunt, she made to undo the buttons of her blouse, stopping when she realised that she needed both hands.

"Here," she held out the lighter, "Take this."

"Nope," Hunt shook his head, "I need to do the bandage – you can't tie it from there."

Realising that he was right, she bit her lip and let her hand drop, allowing him access.

With a strange look on his face, Gene Hunt leant in to undo the top button. Alex expected him to leap at the chance to get near her blouse, but instead she found him oddly gentle. He did not tear at her buttons, but instead went vigilantly from one to the next, being careful not to rip the material. As he went lower, she once again felt the room temperature crank up a notch, and found her breathing becoming slightly laboured. The physical closeness and intimacy seemed to set them both on edge, and when he brushed one finger against her now exposed breast, she felt as though an electric shock had passed through him.

When he reached the last button, he didn't immediately look up at her, and Alex guessed that he too was trying to rein himself in, gathering his senses lest he suddenly feel the urge to pounce. As he raised his eyes to hers once more, she felt that connection again, even stronger than before, as though there were some current flowing between them, pulling them irresistibly together.

"Gene?" she whispered, huskily, biting her lip again. "You gonna... tie me up then?"

He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and slid one rough hand to rest on the bare skin of her waist, setting her nerves instantly on fire.

She jumped as she felt a tug and a loud "_rrrrrrripppp_".

The next thing she knew, Gene had bent back down to her ankle, and was tying a knot in the make-shift bandage. Alex was confused; where had the material come from if she was still wearing her shirt? Then she looked down to find one sleeve missing. She had been so lulled by his touch, that she hadn't noticed the other hand whip round to tear at her sleeve.

"_Gene_?" she stared at him.

"What?" his tone did its best to imitate innocence, but his barely concealed smirk gave the game away.

"If you only needed my shirt-sleeve, then why, pray, did you have to undo all my buttons?" She could have punched him, but restrained herself admirably.

He looked at her for a second, as if weighing up his options.

"Well if I didn't," his eyes glinted with some predatory instinct, "'Ow do you expect me to do this?" So saying, he wrapped one hand around her waist, covering her breast with the other hand and pressed his mouth to hers once more in a fierce kiss.

Taken unawares, Alex gasped and promptly dropped the lighter.

Once again, they were plunged into darkness.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - **

**Enjoy much?**

**R & R**


	6. Shock Tactics

**Hope you all enjoy the update! More cold showers on the way, I promise!**

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Suddenly blinded once again, Alex blinked reflexively, allowing her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. However, she soon realised that this wasn't the most pressing issue at present: Gene Hunt made sure of that.

He seemed to have taken the offensive since their previous encounter, bending over her and taking full advantage of the undone shirt. She quickly gave up any attempts at seeing anything, and allowed her eyes to flicker shut, her head lolling back under his ministrations. His mouth was pressed tightly to hers, lips moving hotly over her own; his tongue occasionally sliding against hers. His hands were supporting her waist, stopping her from falling backwards under his passionate assault. This in turn forced her hands to waist level, so she fisted the tails of his shirt, pulling his midriff as close as possible to hers. It was so comforting to feel that human warmth that so radiated from his body; she felt so safe with Gene.

She snuggled closer still, until she felt something hard and angular digging into her hip.

"_Mggrrpphh_," she grumbled into his mouth, "'Ots 'ah?"

Pushing him off her slightly, she reached her hand down to his hip and grabbed the object.

"Honestly, Gene!" She slapped him on the arm with the three-quarters-full hip-flask, "You had me worried there."

"Oh don't worry, Bolls," the husky tone of his voice drove her mad with lust, "There's bigger an' better things to come..." Pulling her to him once more, he bent down and nipped lightly at her ear-lobe, tugging it experimentally with his teeth.

"_Ohhhhh_ – _Gene_...?" she instinctively arched into him a little, pressing her chest tightly to his.

"'Ot i' it 'ow?" He reluctantly let his prize go, and returned to her neck, pressing butterfly kisses to the exposed skin. "I'm a..." _kiss_ "...bit..." _kiss_ "...busy..." _kiss_ "...right now..."

"I'm in a bit of – _ooooohhhhh _– pain at the moment," she half-breathed, half-moaned into his ear.

"What?" Gene sat bolt-upright, "Your ankle? I thought we'd fixed it."

"_No_," she punched his arm lightly, sounding a bit embarrassed, "It's my back."

"Is this your not-so-subtle-posh-bollocks way of tellin' me to back off?"

"_No_!" she sounded even more embarrassed now, "I was going to suggest we... er... get a little more comfortable?"

"Shall I summon up a couple of armchairs and a bottle of Luigi's 'ouse rubbish, then?"

Ignoring his comment, Alex swallowed, summoning up the courage to continue.

"I was thinking more of... a... _um_... change of positions?"

She could feel the relief radiating from him, as he bent back down to her ear to whisper his reply.

"What you got in mind, Bolly?"

"Well..." she grabbed his half-open shirt, and tugged at it, "I was thinking something along the lines of this..." Taking him by surprise, she pushed him backwards and sideways, following swiftly after him.

"_Ooofff_!" Gene Hunt was shocked to suddenly find himself flat on his back, with his DI straddling him. Quickly gathering his wits, he had just enough time to mutter "Kinky bitch" before her mouth crashed down onto his.

There was nothing gentle about this encounter; their mouths met in a clash of teeth and tongues, heads moving frantically against one another. Grabbing his shirt, Alex pulled hard and was rewarded with a loud "_rrrrippppp_" as the two sides of material parted company, buttons flying right, left, and centre. Satisfied with her work, she grinned against his mouth, before shoving both hands up and under his damp vest, pushing it aside to reveal the torso beneath.

He wasn't exactly hard and muscular, but nor was he soft and flabby, but rather a mixture of both. In any case, Alex Drake didn't particularly care – he was Gene Hunt, and that was all she wanted.

She ran one hand up and over his pectorals, grazing her nails tantalisingly over his nipple.

"_Oh_... _mmm_..." he moaned into her mouth, temporarily distracted from her kisses.

She tried the same with the other, nipple, and it too elicited a similar response. Feeling a little light-headed with lust, she dragged her mouth reluctantly away from his, and bent down to his chest. When Gene felt her tongue flick against the raised and sensitive skin, he almost cried out with pleasure. However, when she sucked one into her mouth, swirling her tongue across the tip, he couldn't restrain himself.

"_OH_... _A-LEX_!"

She stopped in her tracks, this being only the second time he had ever said her name. Recovering slightly, Gene took advantage of her surprise and made his move.

Yelping in shock, Alex felt her world tip and tumble as he rolled them over. The next thing she knew, she was on her back, arms pinned behind her head, with Gene Hunt hovering over her, his hands wrestling with her bra.

After a brief tussle, she heard the familiar '_ping_', and knew that his efforts had been successful. With his hands behind her back, her linked wrists were forced to remain above her own head, rendering her very exposed to the man above her.

Despite all this, Alex Drake couldn't remember the last time she had felt this turned on. She was lying beneath Gene Hunt; shirt flung wide open, bra to one side, and now hardening nipples exposed to the cool air. She suddenly had a desire to be dominated, for him to take her and possess her. She wanted to give up all control, and just let him take up the reins.

Luckily for her, this was exactly what Gene intended to do.

"Alex?" the unexpected question took a while to sink in.

"Yes?" she struggled to control her beating heart, lest it deprive her once more of the power of speech.

"Are you sure you want me to..." he trailed off softly, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air.

She was somewhat shocked by this sudden display of chivalry. He didn't want to take advantage of her, and yet, there was something else in his voice too – a softness and vulnerability that she hadn't noticed before.

"Gene," she whispered back, "No more questions – just take me – right here, right now."

She spoke softly, and yet he understood the need in her tone. There would be time to talk later, they understood that, but for now, she just needed him.

At last allowing the animal inside to rise in his blood, Gene savoured the last dregs of anticipation, and lowered his head..

_CCCCCCRRRRAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH_!!!

The noise and suddenly blinding light simultaneously made them jump out of their skins, and caused their retinas to burn up.

In an effort to turn around and face the assailant, Gene hastily tried to pull his arms around to shield his eyes. However, Alex gave a shocked yelp, and he realised that they were still linked by their bound and looped wrists. Changing tack, he instead hauled her to him, and swung them both around to face the door.

Although they couldn't see anything, they instantly recognised the voice, and it sent shivers down their spines.

"Oho – very kinky" It was the gunman; evidently he had recovered from Gene's attack, and had eventually tracked them down. Now able to see, Alex turned to her companion, and they exchanged a worried glance.

"Now, let's see..." their attacker ran a gloved finger down his chin in mock thought, "Where were we?" Seemingly coming to a conclusion, he lowered his hand, and brought the gun up to his eyelevel.

"Oh yes..." he continued menacingly, "I was about to blow your brains out!"

He raised the pistol, and the pair stared helplessly down the barrel.

"GENE!"

"ALEX!"

They clung to each other, waiting for the bullet.

_BANGGGGGGGGGGG!_

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**Cliffhangers galore, eh?**

**R & R**


	7. Sacrifice

**Good morning constructs! Due to the unique way in which my subconscious works, it seems that I have managed to write and plan a story which, sadly, has a limited life-span. Yes, we have reached the penultimate chapter. Like the actual series, this fic will have 8 instalments; each as thrilling as the last – don't you worry, you may be on chapter 7, but I have got a whole lot more left to write! Twists and turns like you won't believe! So sit back, and enjoy the ride!**

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Alex closed her eyes in shock as she felt a sharp pain in her lower back. Gasping, she clung tighter to Gene, waiting inevitably for the blood, or worse, the cold wave of death, to flood over her. When she felt nothing more, she blindly wondered if she had already gone numb, and was half-way to unconsciousness.

But then she heard the gargling gasp from above, and looked about in confusion. As she raised her head from his shoulder, she felt Gene do likewise, and suddenly, as if by magic, the pain in her back subsided. She quickly realised that her 'fatal injury' had been a little pre-empted – there was no bullet, just the shocked grip of Gene's fingers, digging into her back.

"Honestly!" she said in a harsh whisper, as she dug her fingers into his shoulders, "I thought I'd been _shot_!"

"Well you 'aven't," his voice too was low and harsh, "So can we please concentrate on the great murderin' _bastard_ with the gun?"

She muttered something about "bruises" that was too low for Gene to hear.

Having been so distracted by Gene, Alex jumped when she heard the raspy voice of the gunman above them.

"I _want_ you to turn around!"

She felt a shiver roll down her spine as she looked up at him. Gene too swivelled his head to face their attacker.

"That may 'ave been a warning shot, but believe me, I'm _dead_ serious now." The man seemed to be toying with them, but Alex supposed he didn't really need to hurry – he had them where he wanted them; no-one was going to be saving them.

"_TURN AROUND_!" Alex jumped; his anger was as fluctuating as Gene's personality.

"What, so you can 'umiliate us as well – not bloody likely." Gene Hunt was in no mood to be bossed about – gun-wielding-maniac or not.

"_Gene_," Alex muttered, into his ear, "_What_ are you _playing at_?"

"Look," he said low enough for only her to hear, "If we turn around, 'e'll shoot us; if we stay 'ere, 'e'll shoot us." She stared at him in confusion, but he carried on in hushed tones. "Listen to me, Bolls – I'm _tryin' _to save your life!"

"I'll give you ten seconds," the masked-man raised his pistol once more, "Last chance."

Knowing how little time he had, Gene made his mind up and leaned in closer to Alex.

"Right, Drake – when he shoots, there's a good chance he won't hit you-"

"_Ten... nine.._."The countdown had begun.

"- Given that you're be'ind me, so jus' play dead."

"... _Eight_... _Seven_..."

"_Gene_? That's your grand plan?"

"... _Six_... _Five_..."

"Best I can do, Bolly."

"... _Four_... _Three_..."

"But how're you getting out then?"

"... _Two_..."

He looked her straight in the eye and all at once she understood.

"... _One_..."

"Someone's gotta take the bullet, Bolls."

"_Time's up_!"

"**NO! **_**GENE**_"

He pressed his lips to hers once more; a gentle kiss.

_BAAAAAAANNNNNNNGGGGG_!!!

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Alex was unable to stop the tears from rolling down her face as she pressed her lips desperately to his, as though she were trying to force life back into him. She almost got the shock of her life when he grabbed her arm in a sudden, vice-like grip. She drew breath so suddenly that she began to feel a bit light-headed; indeed, she wondered if she was in some nightmarish dream.

"_Gene_?" She didn't dare hope for an answer, but she had to ask.

"_Alex_?"

"Oh god - GENE!" She tightened her grip around him and pulled him to her in a fierce hug. "I thought I'd lost you! And you were gonna-"

"_Gerroffme_," the mumbled reply came from her neck. Relaxing her grip a little, she allowed him to extract his head from where it was practically wedged against her cleavage, and get some air.

He looked up at her, and she noted the trace of a tear in the corner of one eye. "That's the repayment I get? I try and save yer life and you bloody suffocate me?" He grinned at her, and she returned it.

Her smile vanished when she saw the body in the open door-way. Turning to glance behind him, Gene swore and suddenly became serious.

"Shit, Bolly, what 'appened to that bloke? 'Oo got shot?"

No sooner had he spoken, when a tall, imposing figure strode into view. Walking over to the pair, he aimed a swift kick at the crumpled figure of the gunman, who grunted in pain.

"_Scum_"

Simultaneous grins split the faces of Gene and Alex.

"Ray-fuckin'-mondo!"

"God, Ray, are we glad to see you!"

The gruff voice of the DS answered.

"No thanks to you two! Leavin' me behind while you went gallivantin' off!"

"You what?" Gene was incredulous, "Look at that bandage – first class 'ero work, that is!"

"Did the job, I s'pose," Ray muttered, before allowing a smirk to spread across his features, "So I risk life 'n' limb t' save your sorry arses, only t' find you... otherwise engaged...?"

Gene and Alex exchanged a horrified glance.

"Me? No – with him?"

"Grant me an ounce of common-sense, Raymondo!"

"We-"

"I-"

Ray smirked again, and lit a cigarette, letting them squirm. Puffing out a cloud of smoke, he raised an eyebrow and glanced down at their bound wrists, tutting.

"Didn't 'ave you down as the bondage type, Guv – still, whatever floats yer boat..."

The rest of his words were drowned out by loud remarks of protest from his superiors.

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Back at the station, order appeared to have been restored. The DCI Gene Hunt sat on his desk; mug of tea in one hand, cigarette in the other, he finished debriefing his officers.

"So full marks to Tintin 'ere," he nodded in the direction of Chris, "for raisin' the alarm so promptly. 'N' 'ats off to Raymondo for bein' man enough to survive that minor injury, and savin' the bloody day." He nodded at Ray, who was busy trying to show off his bandaged torso to a pretty, young female officer.

"Bolly here, and my good self, did our best to distract the murderin' scum, by-"

"Lockin' yerselves in a cupboard?" Chris interrupted, exchanging a wicked grin with Ray.

"_No_, you div! By-"

"Gettin' all '_tied up_' with DI Drake, Guv?" Ray quipped, causing Chris to snort and spray out his mouthful of tea.

"NO!" Gene Hunt was looking more hot and bothered by the minute, "We distracted the bleedin' imbecile by-"

"A combination of cognitive psychology and a detailed knowledge of criminal reasoning, whilst maintaining the full use of our faculties and available resources." Alex interrupted, rounding on the crowd of giggling officers.

"Precisely," Gene nodded with appreciation, and cracked a half-smile in her direction, which she subtly returned.

The sudden '_brrring-brrring_' of the telephone, cut through the chattering room.

Picking it up, Alex held the piece to her ear, "Hello, DI Drake, speaking?"

Gene Hunt had been watching her, and when she put the receiver down, he instantly knew that there was something wrong. The look on her face said it all.

"What is it, Drake?"

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

"It's Tyler Connor – the gunman."

Gene walked over to her, his voice dangerously low.

"What about him?"

Looking him straight in the eyes, Alex cleared her throat, prepared for the worst.

"He got away."

"_**WHAT?**_" Gene Hunt exploded.

But Alex hadn't finished. Drawing a deep breath, she gripped the table for support, and whispered,

"...And they said... he's looking... for me..."

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**Haha – cliffhangers right up till the end. Only one more chapter to go!**

**Savour the anticipation once more – and please do leave a review if you feel so inclined – I love hearing what you think!**


	8. One Last Shot

**Here we go – Chapter 8 – the final episode of this tale – is here! I've enjoyed writing it as much as you've probably enjoyed reading it – for a first GALEX fic, it's not bad!**

**On a side note – if you have 'Absolute Beginners' by David Bowie, please play it - it fits perfectly with this piece.**

**So all that's left to say is – ENJOY!**

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"... So 's bopped the duty sarge one an' jus' 'opped out the car, did 'e?"

"Well, the duty sergeant was driving the vehicle – the convict elbowed him in the face, and the car crashed," The DI corrected him, wearily.

"So 'e totals _my_ car, beats up _my_ officer an' legs it?" Her DCI paused, then added for effect - "_bastard_".

"It's not your fault, Gene," Alex Drake picked up the half-empty wine bottle and poured them both another generous glass. Fidgeting on her stool, the DI winced a little as she caught her still-tender ankle on the bar.

Looking around at her, Gene sounded concerned, "Does it still hurt?"

"Yeah," she pulled a face, "A little."

Gene had taken her straight to the St George's when they had seen off Connor in the squad car. Quickly diagnosed as having a broken ankle, Alex had been detained at the hospital for a further two hours, while they set and plastered the swollen joint. DI Drake had to admit that, despite all the medical advances that the future held, 1981 had a few aces up its sleeve when it came to waiting-time and cooperative staff.

After the hospital trip and debriefing back at the station, Alex had firmly declined Ray's offer of a night out on the town with Chris and Shaz. She had been surprised and not a little touched when DCI Hunt refused the offer too, insisting that she needed a quiet drink and some company.

They had been at 'Luigi's' for the past hour, morosely absorbed in the day's events, and were already on their third bottle of wine. Alex took another mouthful, and felt the warmth of the alcohol cheer her blood a little – it also did wonders as a painkiller.

"You sure you're alright, Drake?" She looked up as Gene addressed her, to find him shooting odd looks at her.

"I'm alright, Gene," she acquiesced, "Just feeling a little drained – a broken ankle tends to do that to you," she added sarcastically.

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it, seeming to think better of it. She closed her eyes briefly, as she felt the room tilt slightly under the effect of the alcohol. The lazy murmur of chatter washed over her, seeming somehow so calming, so relaxing; the perfect wind-down to her day. In the background she could hear a Bowie record playing softly.

'_I've nothing much to offer; There's nothing much to take,  
I'm an absolute beginner, and I'm absolutely sane...'_

She smiled softly to herself – that just about summed it up for her. She _was_ sane – she was quite sure of that, and yet, she sighed and looked around her. This world, this 1981 world – it seemed so real; she looked at Gene - he too seemed _so_ real.

"What?" he narrowed his brows a little.

"You, Gene – all of this," Alex motioned wildly with her hands, "It's all _so_ real."

He raised his eyebrows and took a measured sip of wine.

"I mean, don't you ever wonder about all this, Gene?" she leaned forward and lowered her voice, as though she were revealing a great secret. "Everyday you do the same job, go to the same places, meet the same people – don't you ever think that there's more out there?"

"Yeah, sometimes," he leaned in closer, shuffling his stool nearer to hers.

She continued fervently, "Take today, I mean – what was running through your mind when he had that gun trained on us? Last few seconds of your life – what were you thinking about?"

At some point during her fevered speech, she had grabbed his hand, emphasising her point. Now, he looked down at her hand on his, and tentatively squeezed it a little, the look on his face unreadable.

"I was thinkin'..." he paused, as though suddenly unsure of himself. Alex leant in further still, trying to catch his next words; they were practically nose to nose now.

He started again, "I was thinkin'... 'bout this, Bolly..." He leant into her, gently nuzzling one cheek with the tip of his nose, moving slowly lest he scare her. Tracing small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, he allowed his lips to press gently against the soft skin of her cheek.

Alex had almost stopped breathing, and she felt her eyelids flicker closed as she leaned into his caress, her questions all but forgotten. She swayed on her stool and would have fallen had it not been for Gene's hand on her hip. Lazily, she nudged her nose to his cheek, placing a tender kiss to his jaw, and squeezed his hand gently back.

'_...As long as we're together, the rest can go to hell,  
I absolutely love you, but we're absolute beginners...'_

Bowie played on in the background, as she whispered in his ear, "_Gene_...?" - tugging gently at his hand.

He nuzzled his cheek to hers, understanding the unasked question.

"_I know_", he whispered back, huskily.

Wrenching himself from her, he squeezed her hand.

"I'll get my coat," he looked meaningfully at her, and was gone.

Alex smiled to herself, and quickly drained her glass, glancing quickly upstairs; waiting for his return.

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After a few minutes, it was evident that there was something horribly wrong; the DCI had left his coat in the porch, and it couldn't have taken him more than ten seconds to retrieve it. Transferring her pistol from its holster to her back pocket, Alex was suddenly glad of Ray's advice to carry extra protection even when off-duty. Slipping off her chair, she seized up the crutch from where it leant against the bar, and taking the weight off her injured ankle, made swiftly for the door. Glancing around the porch, she soon saw Gene's coat, still on its hook; frowning and biting her lip slightly, she checked her gun once more, and pushed the door to the street softly open.

The street outside was dark and empty; the only sound was the light rain as it _splished_ and _splashed_ onto roofs and puddles. Stopping in the middle of the road, she cast around desperately for some sign of Gene. She could feel her heart thudding in her ribcage, and wondered if there was anyone nearby to hear it. A slight noise made her swivel her head round so fast that she felt dizzy; she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the cat's glowing eyes staring out at her from a side-street.

Now thoroughly spooked, she ventured his name into the darkness – "_Gene_?" she couldn't keep the nervousness out of her voice.

A low exclamation of "_shit_" reached her ears, and she recognised the gruff tone. Following the sound, she ran forward, cornering into a narrow side-alley.

"_Gene_?" she called again, less hesitantly, for confirmation.

However, the voice which answered her made her breath hitch and froze her in her tracks.

"I told you she'd come," the raspy whisper of the gunman's voice hit her ears with the impact of a freight train. With a click, his lighter sparked into life, casting a flickering light across the pair. Alex gasped when she saw Gene; he was bent forwards slightly, his hands forced up behind his back. There was a fresh wound on his forehead, and the dark blood was dripping silently down his cheek. He looked like a beaten man.

"What do you want?" Alex tried to keep her voice steady, feeling subtly around for her gun.

"I want to finish what I started, darlin'," he ran his gun up Hunt's cheek, pressing it hard into the wound, causing Gene to bellow with pain. "You can watch me kill your friend here, and then," he paused and licked his lips, "It's your turn..."

"I can see a gaping hole in your plan," Alex sounded braver than she felt. She realised that she only had once chance and Gene's life depended on it.

"And what's that, love?"

Raising an eyebrow in mild curiosity, the gunman suddenly brought one knee up, driving it into Gene's stomach. Grunting in pain, Hunt doubled over, only to be firmly jerked back upright by his captor.

It was raining harder now, the water cascading down and shooting out of the drainpipes above them. Alex knew she had to act quickly now, before the flickering light of the lighter was extinguished completely.

Taking a deep breath, she curled her fingers around her weapon. She had only one shot before she lost the advantage of surprise, and that shot had to be accurate. If she missed, she would hit Gene.

Gulping, she continued, "Well, I would say..." she grasped the gun behind her, pulling the hammer back, "...That your main problem..." she balanced on her good ankle, ready to grab the gun with her right hand, "...is _**ME**_!"

Everything seemed to happen at once. Dropping her crutch, she grasped the gun with her right hand, brought it to eye level, took quick aim and fired. The gunman was flung backwards by the force of impact, the bullet tearing through his shirt and hitting him squarely in the chest, leaving a shower of blood behind it. Gene was pushed forwards by the gunman's flailing hands, and staggered towards Alex, drunkenly.

What the pair didn't see was the revolver. As his life-blood spurted from his chest, the gunman took up his pistol with shaking hands and took one last shot, before death took its grip and he collapsed, dropping the lighter and plunging them all into darkness.

_BBIIIAAOOO-THHMMP!_

Alex snapped her head round at the shot, and felt the impact. Above them, the clouds had shifted slightly, and the moon now cast its eerie glow on the scene. Looking down dazedly, she saw –

"_**GENE!**__"_

He was spread-eagled on the floor; face-down on the wet ground, head wound still bleeding profusely.

She dropped to her knees, not caring about the puddles, and rolled him over to check for breathing. Panicking when felt no answering breath on her cheek; she tilted his head back and, still sobbing, bent her head down to his.

As she touched her lips to his, ready to breathe some life back into his lungs, she felt him push up towards her, and kiss her demandingly, swallowing down her gasps of surprise.

She pulled away in shock, "Gene! I thought you were-"

Sitting up, he felt around in his jacket pocket, eventually producing his hip-flask. Grabbing her hand, Gene ran her fingers over the metal, letting her feel the deep dint in the surface.

"Oh!" she gasped, as realisation hit her. Then she hit him, giving him a hefty thump on the chest. "You _bastard_!" she hit him again, "You made me think..." _thump_ "...That I'd lost you..." _thump _"...That's the second time today!"

"_Oof_," he spluttered, half-chuckling, "Give over, ya great tart!" He was trying to grab her arms, and after a short tussle, eventually succeeded in pinning her them to her side.

Calming down, she looked at him, and without any reason, she suddenly felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"Come 'ere," Gene beckoned softly, holding out an arm. Sobbing, she shuffled over to him, and buried her face in his chest. "_Sshh_," he muttered soothingly, stroking her hair, and slipping an arm around her shoulders.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, sitting quietly in the damp alley-way, rain dripping down their faces, soaking them to the skin.

"Gene?" she raised her head a little, fingers playing over the chain around his neck.

He said nothing, so she continued, "I know it's been a long day," she heard him snort softly in agreement, "And you might want to put this down to pain, shock, the drink or tiredness, but I need to say it," she looked up at him, "I think I lo-"

"Don't" he cut her off quickly, though not unkindly, "Don't say it, Alex,"

"But-"

"Please," he implored her, "I don't wanna get hurt again."

"I –" She tried again.

"No, not yet," she could hear the pain in his voice, "Now come on, let's get you 'ome."

He helped her up, and Alex leant against him for support; together, they headed slowly back to 'Luigi's' and her flat.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - **

Blinking in the morning light, Alex rolled over to check her alarm clock. Hitting something soft and warm, she opened her eyes quickly in surprise.

"Gene?" he was lying on one side, facing her, soft breath hitting her cheek.

"You snore, Bolly," he cracked a half-smile.

"What? When?" even as the questions spilled forth, she felt her memories awaken.

She remembered the gunman... Gene getting shot... stumbling home... getting out of wet clothes... bed...

"We didn't...?" she let the question hang in the sultry air.

"Nope," he shook his head.

"And are you...?" she motioned at the covers, realising that she was practically naked beneath them.

"Yup," he winked sleepily at her, "Wanna peek?"

She punched him playfully.

"How's the head?"

"Take a look," he lifted his sweeping hair off his forehead, showing her the injury.

Curious, Alex reached out a hand, and gently ran her thumb over the wound. It felt hot and sore under her cooling touch. Gene gasped breathily, and grabbed her hand, holding it there. She moved her hand slowly, tracing the wound downwards, brushing soft fingers against his cheek.

It was as if someone had thrown a switch; almost instantly, Alex felt her heart speed up, and her face flushed. Every sense in her body seemed to beg for his touch.

His grip on her hand slackened, and she ran the pad of her thumb over his half-open lips. She looked at him, and their eyes met.

"Gene," she lowered her fingers, running them over his chain and neck, "Last night, I was going to say something, and you stopped me."

He opened his mouth about to interrupt, but Alex quickly placed two fingers over his lips.

"Listen; I've had plenty of sleep, I'm stone sober, and virtually pain-free," she paused, and leant her forehead against his. He squeezed her hand, and she took it as a sign to continue.

"I cannot believe that I am about to say this," she half-laughed, "But despite everything..." she looked deep into those blue eyes of his, "...Gene Hunt, I lov-"

"I know," he interrupted her and smiled softly, "Me too," he added seriously.

"Then why won't you let me say it?" She was half relieved, half frustrated.

"I've never like words much," he brought one hand up and stroked her cheek with the back of it. "You mean too much to me, Alex, to go messin' it up with words."

She closed her eyes, and let the feelings wash over her. Never had she known anything so gentle and tender as Gene Hunt.

"So will you let me show you?"

She opened her eyes again, and saw him watching her. She fell deliciously into the kiss, and felt him wrap his strong arms around her. Her bare breasts pressed up against the warmth of his skin, and she revelled in the human contact. She felt safe; home at last.

Drawing back a little, he grinned down at her, mischief in his eyes.

"Jus' as I said – bigger in every department, Bolly,"

And giggling like teenagers, they disappeared under the covers.

- _**Fin**_ -

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - **

**Well – I hope you enjoyed that – an epic last chapter?**

**Watch this space for more fics and thanks for all the support!**

**GeneGenie xxx**


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